


The Dream Demon

by AnxiousPeaches



Category: A Nightmare on Elm Street (2010), Dead by Daylight (Video Game)
Genre: Anal Sex, Blood As Lube, Blood and Gore, Cock & Ball Torture, Corpse Desecration, Deepthroating, Dominance, Except its a bladed claw not a knife, Gross, Humiliation, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Knifeplay, M/M, Physical Abuse, Rape, Rough Oral Sex, Sadism, Vomit As Lube, Vomiting, overt non-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-10
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-06-08 12:21:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15243303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnxiousPeaches/pseuds/AnxiousPeaches
Summary: After a fellow survivor goes missing and Krueger is to blame, Quentin Smith learns just how dangerous The Nightmare can be when left to his own devices.





	1. Memory Lane

Flames kissed my skin as I dug them deep into ashen logs that crumbled at my touch. _Figures._ I didn’t know why I kept trying to burn myself awake when it had never worked before. Outside the trials, the campsite had a peaceful atmosphere that made me feel like I was being medically tranquilized. That everlasting fire emitted a crackling heat that made me too comfortable.

When I first showed up in this new personal hell, I thought staying awake would be easy. We were somewhat immortal, after all. But no, of course I’d be lucky enough to end up in some version of hell that allowed my body to become tired. My usual ways, loud music and pills, weren’t available anymore. Even the medkits, which I ransacked hoping I could find supplies to avoid withdrawal, only held pains that limited pain. Some even induced drowsiness, ironically enough.

The longer I stayed awake, the more I obsessed I became about sleep. My body ached for rest. In the trials, my sprints became sluggish. I couldn’t keep up with the others, which often meant getting caught. Still, dying on a hook was better than sleeping. The second I let myself drift off, Freddy Krueger would be waiting for me.

Freddy Krueger was more than just my enemy. He was a living, breathing nightmare. When we were both dragged into this strange world, something changed him. I noticed it in the very first trial. Instead of a dream world which he could endlessly alter to his own whims, his victims fell into a hazy version of their current surroundings. There, he could only slice at us for so long before he had to place us on our hooks. In a way, he became weaker. I wasn’t sure if I should be grateful for that.

After the first time he visited me in my dreams outside the trials, it became clear to me he didn’t appreciate these changes. He _blamed_ me, though I’m not sure how any of it was my fault. Either way, I was glad to be the source of his misery for once. I’d do it all over again, even if it meant spending eternity in hell. It made him irate but it kept him locked away from the rest of the world. Locked away from Nancy and anyone else he planned to hurt.

He roared his threats at me, insulted my very existence, and whispered explicit things that made my stomach churn. All that, but he never hit me. As soon as he tried, I woke up instantly. It took me a few dreams to realizes there were rules in his dream world now.

Then he found other ways to make me miserable. Whatever dictated these rules didn’t care what he did to me as long as it didn’t bring physical harm. My small victory was swiped from underneath me. He knew how to get under my skin, which memories to bring up, and where I hated to be touched. He also knew the spots that felt painfully good, which made it that much more unbearable. 

The worst dreams were when I would wake up feeling violated all over again. _Those_ dreams didn’t occur often. Only after particularly gruesome trials was he awarded with _that_ , and even then he never got too far in before I’d suddenly wake up, haunted by the feeling of his claw touching me. I felt like bait, used only to keep him preforming well. Never enough to satisfy him, never enough to make me want to truly kill myself. The things he did to me in my dreams had no lasting physical affects on the outside. Mentally, I felt shattered, but I couldn’t let myself give up. Even though I didn’t want to do the stupid trials, I knew everyone was relying on me to help. They became my reason to keep going.

In that way, Dwight and I were similar. When I first met him, his nervousness made me uneasy. I didn’t let myself get anxious during the trials if I could help it. Anxiety leads to mistakes. Mistakes meant generators blowing up in your face and calling attention to your location. Yet, Dwight always pulled through. He never let people sit on the hooks and he always waited by the gate to make sure everyone got out.

“It’s been five fuckin’ trials and he ain’t back yet! What am I supposed to do, sit on my ass and wait? This is bullshit,” Bill growled, kicking a burning log in the fire. It sailed past my comfy spot and landed off in the woods. I watched it, hoping it would cause a forest fire and burn our way out. Instead, it crumbled into ash and dissolved into the ground.

 Murmurs of discontent made waves through the other survivors. I didn’t blame them, considering recent events. First Nea and Meg, now Dwight. Who else was going to disappear?

I didn’t know any of them that well, though I’d been stuck in hell for years. It’s not like I didn’t want to become friends. I did. But between the trials, exhaustion, and nightmares, socializing didn’t make a top priority. After the particularly touchy nightmares with Freddy, the last thing I wanted to do was crack jokes with the others.

That didn’t mean I ignored them. In fact, watching all of them was sometimes the only thing that kept me awake. Dwight’s disappearance had affected all of them in little ways. Even Feng Min, who couldn’t stand the always nervous man, was on edge. Claudette and Bill took it the hardest.

Claudette was the mother of the group, at least in my opinion. She tended to wounds during trials and comforted us outside them, especially me. She was the first to confront me about my drug withdrawals. She made me medical tinctures to help alleviate the effects, and in return, I helped her patch up injuries whenever could. Dwight going missing just meant another person she desperately wanted to help but couldn’t.

When Bill discovered that Dwight went missing, I wasn’t surprised by his enraged reaction. The two of them stuck together both inside and outside the trials. I didn’t know if Dwight notices just how protective the veteran was of him. Bill treated Dwight like a son. When Dwight went missing, he wanted to kill Freddy just as badly as I did. He taunted the night sky, daring it to bring him into a trial with The Nightmare. Yet, no matter how many occurred, they never saw Krueger once.

Bill was right though, we couldn’t just sit around and wait for something to happen. If there was anyone who could get answers, it was me. _Krueger would never deny a visit from his favorite survivor._ The thought left a bitter taste in my mouth. None of the other survivors ever got visits in their dreams. I should have been jealous, but I felt relief. People like Claudette and Dwight didn’t need to have monsters like Krueger haunting them.

That’s why I decided to be the hero. _He can try to hurt me all he wants, but no one fucks with my friends._ I pulled my beanie over my eyes and waited for sleep to sink over me. The drowsiness I’d been battling for days easily overcame me in a matter of minutes.

The familiar feeling of being both awake and sleep swept over my mind. Instead of a roaring fire, I saw the empty parking lot of Badham Elementary, except… _No, this isn’t Badham. This the imitation of Badham._ I could tell by the way everything looked far too scaled down. While the imitation captured the same soulless exterior of the original, it was half the size it should be. The real Badham, before it burned down, was bigger than this. It held more than just the five classrooms the imitation had. The schoolyard stretched out farther, with more playground equipment and…

_Flower gardens._

When Freddy first started hunting us, we learned that memories gave him power. The therapy we received as children, to help us block out that traumatic event, unraveled. The more we remembered what he did to us, the stronger he became. Yet, the first thing I remembered about the man wasn’t his secret cave in the basement of the school. It was the smell of freshly cut grass and blooming roses.

_“I want to grow pretty flowers like you, Mr. Krueger.”_

My favorite thing in the whole world was helping him garden. The best days were when my dad would bring me to school an hour early, so I could help Mr. Krueger pull the weeds out and water the flowers. Thinking back on it, I think dad was glad to have the extra time to get ready for work. I asked Krueger a million questions about gardening, and never once did he get annoyed. When I asked if I could help him plan the next flowerbed, his face lit up so bright.

We planted a line of marigolds as warm as the sun – “ _That’s what you call yellow, Quin”_ – followed by daisies and roses and gardenias. Tender love and care went into each placement. “ _You must be careful where you plant each species. Some like more sun than others!”_

I took a deep breath, trying to push the thought away. _We’re here to find out what happened to Dwight, not stroll down memory lane._ The last time I saw Badham, those flowers had withered away to nothing. It pleased me to know that his precious gardens were now just as dead as him.

The inside of the imitation didn’t capture the school’s essence at all. I passed through the front entrance – missing a door because in hell doors are impossible to find – and kicked a few broken toys out of the way.

In the trials, a heavy silence reminded the survivors how wrong it felt to be in a school devoid of the laughter of children. However, as I walked through, I heard squeaky sneakers running through the hall. In some distant classroom, chalk scratched across a blackboard. Behind all that, I noticed a quiet thud from the basement below. It repeated every few seconds as if taunting me to inspect the source of the noise.

 _Of course, he’d be in the basement._ I knew he wanted me to come down there. It satisfied him to no end to torture me in the place of my nightmares. I could have dropped through a hole in the floor and made the whole process faster. Instead, I purposefully decided to take the longest route possible just to spite him. _Make him wait for you to come to him. Power move._

On my way to the staircase heading down, I had to duck into the kindergarten classroom to avoid the nearly collapsed floor in the hallway. Posters in bright elementary colors did nothing to cheer up the gloom of the place. I almost walked out but paused when I saw the chalkboard.

_“You’re almost there! Just three more letters!”_

I had such a stupid time trying to memorize the alphabet. The letters never stuck in my head. My teachers were threatening to pull me back a grade, which only made dad more frustrated with me. No matter how many times I wrote them down on the chalkboard, I’d forget.

Then Freddy came along and taught me the song. Every day while we planted the flowers, we’d sing it together until I finally got it right. After that, he helped me with all my homework. My dad found this to be a relief. He didn’t have time to help with a stupid school assignment. But Freddy did. Freddy made sure he had all the time in the world for me.

Another thud below broke the spell. _This was a mistake._ I steered myself out of the room and started walking faster. Now I wondered if Dwight was never in the school at all. Maybe that thing in the sky ate him and never spat him back out.

Each second in the school made me feel more haunted than ever before. For all the shit talk I did on Krueger, his presence had a way of making me feel like a vulnerable kid again. I took the stairs down two at a time, almost slamming into the wall in my rush to get it all over with. As I got closer, the thuds grew louder. The sound became more defined. Wetter. Something slick was hitting the wall or floor.

_“Dad says I’m bad for crying, but I can’t help it!”_

Being a stupid kid, I had the bright idea to climb onto the roof of the playground equipment. Before anyone noticed I’d acted upon my _genius_ plan, I slipped off the plastic blue roof and fell on my back. Thus ensued a wailing that my teacher, no matter how hard she tried, could not soothe.

So they called my dad, who was less than thrilled that I was causing such a scene. His way of getting me to shut up was telling me to man up. Boys don’t cry, especially when it’s their own damn fault they got hurt to begin with.

This did not help. It only made me feel ashamed for breaking down. After that, I’d just hide somewhere else to cry. And one day, after being called a “butthead” but some Asian kid with buckteeth, I ran into the basement to let it all out. He held me tight in his arms until the pain in my heart went away. _“It’s okay to cry, Quin...”_

Another thud. Blood flowed from the mouth of the secret cave. My feet moved with each wet squelch. Warmth soaked through my shoes. Fresh blood, apparently. I stood at the entrance. The warmth spread to my socks and coated the bottom of my feet. The thing in his hand, he dropped it. One final thud. The skin was gone, leaving flesh. Flesh with no real form, just lumps and bone. Bone, splintered, and teeth.

Splintered like lens the pair glasses that now sat in a pool of blood. That thing on the floor wore them once. It wore them while it pulled me off a hook and patched my wounds.

Mr. Krueger looked up. Looked up at me with his beady little eyes and burned face and worn striped sweater and that warm grin that made me smile as a child.

That’s the problem with the good memories. They make the bad ones sting so much worse.

“Hey there, Quin.” His voice raspy voice hung in the air, surrounded by the scent of rot. I covered my mouth and nose, trying not to puke. “Wanna come play with me?” He asked, holding out his hand. Chunks of skin and flesh hung from his blades. “We could play Pin the Tail on the Donkey. You be the donkey and I’ll give you a nice, thick tail.”

As I sprinted out of the room, my shoes slipped on the slime that coated the floor like paint. I toppled over onto the stairs, smacking my jaw on the concrete so hard it snapped. My brain screamed before the pain even registered. I could think of was those splintered bones. I tried to scramble to my feet, only to feel his hands grasp tightly onto my hips and jerk me back into him. Warm and metallic blood filled my mouth, turning my cry of pain into a garbled grunt. Tears ran down my face as I begged for someone, anyone, to wake me up.

 _“It’s okay to cry, Quin._ _I’ll always be here for you, okay? You don’t ever need to cry alone again.”_

 


	2. Alone Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With the addition of this chapter, I went and updated the tags for the fic. If you are sensitive to non-con content, strongly recommend you read these tags before the chapter.  
> With all that out of the way, enjoy!

“Shhh,” he whispered as he held me in place. The pain of my broken jaw made me so light headed I thought I might pass out. Unfortunately, you can’t really pass out when you’re already asleep.  Instead, you just suffer from the pain and dizziness until your brain finally decides you can wake up.

He wrapped an arm around my waist, tightening his grip as I attempted to wiggle away from him. No matter how much I flailed my arms, he kept me pinned against his chest. The short man was much stronger than he looked, especially in the dream world. 

When I fell and broke my jaw, I must have bitten my tongue in the process. Warm blood filled my mouth. Droplets trickled out, rolling down my chin before I spit  it out.

Hot breath tingled against my skin as he pressed wet kisses against my neck. I tried to scream, hoping somehow the noise would escape my sleeping body in the real world and that the others would wake me up. My jaw crackled, pain shooting across my face. The scream warbled into a sob. 

“Why are you crying?” He ran his scarred hand against my cheek. Even that slight touch made me sick to my stomach. I was so desperate to get away from him, but also trying not to injure myself any more than I had. “I can give you something to cry about.”

His hand slithered down my stomach and into the waistband of my jeans. I let out a yelp as I tried to jolt away from his touch. Just the thought of him coming so close made my stomach churn. The arm around my waist stayed firm. He barely noticed my struggling, acting as if it was not any inconvenience at all as I desperately tried to push him away. The button of my jeans popped with just one tug, clattering to the concrete ground. 

_ Fuck this, fuck, fuck— _ He didn’t bother with the zipper. It broke as he ripped my pants down, bringing my light blue boxers down with them. The cold air nipped against my bare skin. The fabric of his jeans pressed against my bare ass. The tears that had welled up before were now overflowing. His familiar chuckle rumbled in my ears. 

“Oh Quentin,” he  purr ed, wiping some tears off my cheek. “I haven’t even done anything yet.” With a quick jerk, he slammed my head down against the concrete stairs. The whole room felt like it was spinning as I collapsed down to the ground, grabbing at the now bloodied crack on my forehead. He stood above me, watching with interest as I tried to struggle to my feet, tripping on the pants that were still stuck at my ankles. 

The air flew out of my lungs as he delivered a swift kick to my side. Not hard enough to break my ribs, but hard enough to leave a nasty bruise later. He took advantage of my momentary disorientation by shoving me onto my back. I grabbed at his boot, trying to push him away.  I had no plan in mind. I just wanted him away from me as soon as possible. 

Annoyed with my insistent struggling, he snarled. My eyes bulged as he pressed his shoe against my crotch, the rubber sole digging into my dick. I opened my mouth to scream, then choked on the blood that had filled up again. He pushed his foot deeper until he elicited a half-garbled cry from me.

He grinned, p leased with noise .  “Dwight could learn a lot from you. His cries were nowhere near as sexy as yours.” 

“Eat shit and die, fuckface,” I spat out,  panting from the agony happening below. Without a doubt, I never wanted to die as much as I wanted at that moment.  If taunting him would convince him to kill me, I’d be more than willing to hurl insults at him all day. 

I expected another kick – which honestly would have been a relief compared to the crushing pressure he was inflicted – but instead, he tutted condescendingly. “That’s no way to talk to your elders. Honestly, what are they teaching kids in school these days.” He grabbed me by the hair and jerked me up into a sitting position. My hands flew behind my back, held in place by some unseen force. No matter how hard I tried to pull them back, they stayed firmly in place. Several curly strands of hair ripped out  of my scalp  as he pulled my face up to look at him. “Don’t worry sweetie, I’ll remind you of your place.” 

It didn’t take much imagination to figure out what he meant. Keeping a tight grip on my hair, he used his other hand to start undoing his belt.  _ Nah, no, not happening. This isn’t happening.  _ As soon as I tried to push away, he leaned his boot down on my crotch, crushing my balls and dick between the concrete floor and his sole so hard I thought they were going to pop. The agony was dizzying to the point that, if I had eaten anything before, I would have definitely puked. Instead, my stomach heaved, making me dry retch. 

He pressed his hard-on against my cheek. Precum dripped from the tip, causing a wet slapping noise as he pushed it against my face. I pursed my lips, trying to turn my head away.  _ No. _ The grip he had on the scruff of my neck tightened. He twisted his boot. A threat that he controlled me with that pain. I let out a whimper and that was all he needed to force himself inside my mouth. The scared flesh scraped against my tongue and teeth as he gave a low growl of approval. The bitter saltiness of precum overwhelmed my taste buds. 

If he thought it would be that easy, he clearly overestimated my hatred for him. I shot him a dark glare as my teeth snapped down on his shaft. His hot blood mixed with my own as I tore into the flesh. My jaw throbbed with excruciating pain, but I didn’t dare let go. Bits of his skin were left behind as the bastard ripped himself away from me. I spat the blood and chunks of flesh out onto the ground. “Fuck you,” I said, feeling almost triumphant. 

Yet, the look on Freddy’s face wasn’t the agony I expected. He seemed only mildly annoyed and even amused. He chuckled, watching the skin on his dick quickly reform. “I’m the one that controls your dreams, remember? You can’t hurt me.” He took a step closer, then delivered a strong slap again the side of my face. My skin felt inflamed, leaving a bright red mark where he’d hit me.  _ Maybe the others will see it and realize something is wrong.  _ I still clung to that thread of hope, no matter how slim the chances were. “Still, your disobedience deserves another punishment.”

His hand resumed its place, tangled in my mop of disheveled curls.  _ They’ll see the blood and wake me up. Someone just has to notice it. Any moment now, I’ll escape.  _ I just hoped the others would  notice  before Freddy could do anything worse to me. 

This time, he didn’t bother toying  around. He shoved a blade of his claw in-between my teeth, twisting it until my mouth opened. The blade sliced at the roof my mouth as I tried to resist. I winced at the pain but barely noticed the stronger flow of blood filling it up. 

“Let’s see if you want to bite down now,” he chuckled, still holding his claw in my mouth. I remembered the state Dwight had been in after his time with Freddy. Krueger had already proven he could torture someone for days before they finally succumbed to the wounds. I stilled, unsure if I should struggle or not. His dick slipped in beside the blade and blood gushed out, displaced by his girth. I shuddered as he thrust forward, his dick slamming into the back of my throat. My eyes flew open wide as I tried not to choke, fearing what that blade could do to me if I bit down. 

Seeing his pleased expression was all I needed to squeeze my eyes back shut. The smell and taste overwhelmed my senses enough. I didn’t need to be looking at the ugly fuck too. Yet, I couldn’t stop the groan of sheer disgust as he started to build up a steady rhythm. My hands weakly struggled against whatever held me down. Even if they were free, I wasn’t sure what I could do to stop him. His boot had resumed its place on my crotch and I was afraid even if I did manage to push him away, he’d crush me. My fists clenched in and out, digging nails into my palms hoping that it would somehow wake me up. 

His breath started to hitch. He let out a moan of pleasure, moving faster. I felt blood splattering against my chin and neck with each thrust. The wet noises of him moving within my skull were deafeningly loud to my ears. Suddenly letting him crush my dick didn’t seem so bad.  _ Maybe it would kill me. What if I got him to stab that claw through that neck? Would dying let me get out of here?  _ Then he was cramming his dick further down than he ever had before. It kept going and going until I could feel a tuft of curly hair scratching against my face. My jaw ached, and it felt like my throat was about to split open just from the width, and even as I started crying from the pain he didn’t  _ stop _ .

And then something hot and terrible poured down my throat. A gush of thick cum choked out what little air I had, forcing me to swallow it up. It bubbled up my nose, burning as it ran out my nostrils and down my face. Hot tears blurred my vision as he finally pulled out of my mouth. A mixture of saliva, cum, and blood spattered out as I coughed on the buildup of fluids in my throat. 

He let out a purr of satisfaction that made my skin crawl. My jaw crackled with unusual noises as I tried to move it. I couldn’t tell where the bone had shattered, but I sure as fuck knew it hurt worse than just about anything I’d felt before. I’d rather be sawed in half again than deal with any more of Freddy’s bullshit. Uncontrollable shudders traveled through my body, and I was unsure if it was my fear or fury causing it. 

After what felt like forever but had truly only been a few seconds, he turned his attention back to me. “You always were such a messy boy,” Freddy said, admiring the state he’d left me in. I tried to ignore the underlying message behind his words. “Here, let me clean you up,” he said, rubbing his softening dick against my cheek. A sludge of fluids dripped onto my skin, of course making everything so much worse. I wanted to snap at him, but for once I finally decided to keep my mouth shut.  _ He’s done, he’s finished with you. Just be  _ _ good _ _ , let him taunt you a bit, and then you can go.  _

He kneeled until he was face to face with me. His hot breath, which smel led beyond rotten , was enough to make me wrinkle my nose. Taking my chin in his hand, he ran his tongue across my cheek . I grimaced at the feeling of his rough tongue touching me. It played with the entrance of my lips, pushing at them until I realized he was trying to get in my mouth. The blades of his claws clicked. A reminder. I reluctantly parted my mouth to let him in. 

The feeling of his tongue swishing around inside me was far too familiar. The kiss was sloppy, purposefully so. He enjoyed swishing his saliva into my mouth for reasons I didn’t want to think about. I’d gone incredibly limp during the whole process, just hoping if I compiled that he would finish up faster. 

“See, that wasn’t so bad, was it,” he hummed once he was done molesting my face. He ran a hand through my hair with a level of affection that made me cringe. _Oh yeah, totally great. Best time of my life. A real treat to endure._ I stayed quiet and kept my eyes pointed at the ground. _Be good_ _, remember?_ The thought of going through all that again made it easier to stay compliant. 

“What’s wrong, sweetie? I didn’t accidentally cut off that tongue of yours, did I?” The irritation in his voice was becoming evident. 

“No, it wasn’t so bad,” I said, my voice a hoarse whisper. He grinned, pleased with my reaction. The grip on my hair tightened once again, but this time it wasn’t because he wanted to shove something down my throat. He roughly pulled me up off my knees and onto my feet, keeping a hand on my waist so I didn’t fall over. 

“What a good boy,” he whispered in my ear. He let go of my hair and let his hand trail down my back, the blades tapping impatiently against my shirt. They barely touched the arms which were still restrained around my back. “I’ve been waiting so long to have you,” he cooed. The claw grazed against the bare skin of my ass and I didn’t miss the slight grin that spread across his face when he touched me there. “Maybe you should get a reward for being so good,” he purred.  _ Please… just let me go. _ His rewards were always death or rape. Death seemed like a great idea, but I suspected that’s not what he had in mind. 

A ripping sound from behind actually made me jump. Cool air hit m y back as he used his claw to cut away my shirt. Every now and then, he left thin slices into my skin, just to elicit a slight wince from me. Scraps of fabric dangled from my restrained wrists, but the rest was quickly removed. 

I felt far too aware of how cold the basement of the school really was. Goosebumps rose all along my skin as I shivered beside him. The steam that jetting out the pipes around us should have heated up the room, but they were apparently just for show. 

A quick slap against my ass brought my mind to the present. “Wandering off, are we?” He hissed, apparently noticing that I hadn’t given him my undivided attention like the little attention whore he was. He spun me around so that my back was against him yet again. This time, though, it wasn’t the denim of his pants rubbing against my bare skin. 

I knew what was going to happen. That didn’t stop my heart from racing. It didn’t stop the breath in my throat from getting caught as I felt him press into me. A pained whimper muffled behind my tightened lips. Of all the stupid things for my mind to get caught on, I couldn’t stop thinking about how he was doing it dry. It should have been painful to both of us. Of course, it didn’t hurt for him. He probably didn’t allow himself to feel pain in dreams. 

He shoved himself in with a slowness that felt somehow worse than if he just crammed it in. I preferred it to go fast, even if it was more painful. The faster this went, the sooner it would be over. He pushed my head down, forcing me to bend over. Instinctually I tried to grab onto a nearby pipe or keep myself from falling, but my arms still stuck to my back. He dug his claw into my shoulder – the only thing keeping me balanced. 

Even though he wasn’t a particularly large man, the pain of being forced into was enough to make my eyes water. Each huff of breath he let out matched with the steady rhythm he built up. Each jolt was miserable in every capacity.

Blood dripped down my back and legs, joining the puddle of mixed fluids that had formed beneath me. I tried to focus on each ripple caused by droplets until I started to notice the reflection looking back at me. My hollow eyes winced with each thrust he made. Beads of sweat dripped down my forehead, making some of my hair stick to the wetness. Seeing myself being used like that made it all the more humiliating.

_ You should have never come here.  _ The tears I’d been blinking away now flowed. The claw yanked out of my shoulder. He grabbed me by the hair and forced me up again, this time arching me back so far my spine felt like it was on the verge of snapping. “Silly me. I’ve been enjoying myself so much, I didn’t even think about your own needs,” he spoke, his voice gravely and out of breath.  _ I need you to let me go.  _

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see a shape moving into view. The mangled husk of Dwight’s corpse slid into the room, stopping at our feet with a sickening, wet thud. He could do whatever he wanted in this world, twist it in any way he pleased. If he really felt like it, he could make that corpse act as if it were alive again. 

He slipped out of me for a moment, reaching down to tear a gooey chunk off the body.  _ Run _ _ , dumbass.  _ I did try, at least. I managed to take about two steps before my legs froze up. I slid backward, right back where he wanted me. “Bastard,” I hissed. My legs stayed glued to the spot, shaking as I tried desperately to move them again.

“You can’t leave yet. A special boy needs a special present, after all,” he chuckled. Blood and gunk from the corpse coated the palm of his hand. _I really don’t want to know what he plans to do with this._ He resumed his place behind me, marking my neck and shoulder with kisses. My body stiffened at the touch. The smell of blood and long dead meat overwhelmed me as he wrapped his arm around my waist. 

Suddenly I was reminded just how open and vulnerable he’d gotten me. His touch against my naked body brought back a thousand memories and sensations I never wanted repeated. I felt too small and helpless against him. Slowly his hand trailed my stomach, leaving a trail of blood in its wake.  The tip of his cock  pressed at my entrance, hard and hot. My head drooped as I felt his fingers graze against my soft dick. The slick blood coated my skin. 

“N-no.” My throat burned as I tried to speak, thanks to the last ordeal I’d gone through. Even the thought of  _ that _ _ stuff _ touching me was enough to make me sick. My stomach churned and gurgled, threating to puke right then and there. 

Freddy’s body rumbled with a low chuckle as he started stroking me with slow, deliberate movements. “Your mouth says no right now, but later I’ll be making you scream my name.” 

The smell, the sensations, the emotional stress: I couldn’t deal with it. My body reflexively tried to double over as I retched, but of course he wouldn’t give me the courtesy of puking on the floor. He held me up, letting a stream of liquid flow down my chest as I vomited all over myself. For once, I was kind of grateful that we never needed to eat in this hellish place. The vomit was just the blood I’d swallowed earlier.  _ Blood and everything else he forced down my throat.  _

Not during any of that did his hand stop moving over my still very limp dick. The vomit dripped down my chest and onto his hand, which he added to the mess of “lube” he was using on me. It wasn’t as cold as the blood from Dwight’s long dead body. The warmth was the only pleasant change to the whole situation. 

He apparently decided after a while that this wasn’t working and pushed himself back into my already aching hole. “You like that?” He cooed, pumping into me while still working my shaft with his hands.  _ What the fuck, no, I don’t!  _

And I didn’t. I really, really didn’t. That’s didn’t stop my body from reacting to his touch. I felt a hint of heat swelling at the pit of my stomach. Slowly, a bit of stiffness formed as his rubbed the palm of his hand over the tip of my dick. I tried to think of unsexy things. It wasn’t that hard. All I had to do was look down at Dwight’s mangled corpse to be thoroughly disgusting. 

Even that—with its jutting bone and cracked teeth and oozing intestines – didn’t stop my dick from twitching under his touch. From an emotional sense, everything was terrible. Physically, it went from awful to okay to good enough that my dick was actually hard. I squirmed uncomfortably, trying to push my hips away from his hands. Anything to  _ get away _ from what he was doing. Instead, the movement just aided  the friction,  as he never let my dick slip away. 

“Eager, aren’t we?” He said, too close to my ear. I didn’t know if he was just being a prick or if he seriously thought I wanted any of this.

I squeezed my eyes shut, blocking out the yellow glow of the basement.  _ You can—You can get through this. It’s just awful, gross sex. You’re going to put up with it, it’s going to be over before you know it, and then you’ll wake up and move on with your life. _ I opened them again, taking a heavy swallow.  _ You’re strong. You’ll survive.  _

“I’m surprised you got so hard for me so quickly. You really are such a good boy,” he purred. “I wonder how hard I’d have to fuck you to get you to call me daddy.” I’d forgotten how Freddy liked to never shut the fuck up. Hearing his voice grated on my nerves in unimaginable ways. “It must have been hard, going so long without a good fuck. Don’t worry, Daddy will wear you out nice and right.” 

He tightened his grip on me, now squeezing as he moved up and down my shaft. The sensation surprised me. A groan escaped, which I quickly tried to muffle behind clenched teeth. With his gloved hand, pulled at my lips and pried my mouth open, cutting me across the face along the way. 

“Hey now, let’s not hide those beautiful moans,” he said, giving another tight squeeze just to elicit another noise from me. He started thrusting harder then, a feeling that was still just as horrible and painful as before. My mind didn’t focus so much on that anymore though. The pleasure of his hand distracted me, which kind of just made it all the more terrible.  _ I can’t let him get to me like this.  _ I felt out of body. My mind went blank. I wasn’t just getting fucked, I was watching everything happen like an outsider. Pleasure and pain. Pain and pleasure. Both equally making me hate myself for different reasons. 

I hated that I got myself in the situation in the first place. I hated that it was my fault. I hated that I hadn’t touched myself in weeks because the mere act brought emotional turmoil. I hated that every time I got a hard-on caused a sense of overwhelming guilt. I hated how close he was bringing me. I hated the way my breath was hitching, the way my skin was flushed red and sweating all over, the way my knees were shaking and my toes and fingers were curling, the way—

_ Oh god.  _

Right when I was close, his hand tightened around me. Too tight. I thrust forward, trying to get any release. He laughed, watching me struggle to get the orgasm he withheld from me. 

“You want it, don’t you,” he whispered in my ear. The grip grew tight enough to hurt but god, that didn’t change the pressure that welled up inside. Suddenly the only thing my mind could focus on was how close I was and how desperate I needed to cum. 

As if to prove a point, he gently rubbed the tip of my dick with the palm of his gloved hand, this time careful not to let the blades cut me. The involuntary whimper that came out made my face burn with shame. “Beg for it,” he ordered. 

_ Fuck no.  _ I didn’t want to give him that satisfaction. But then his palm started rubbing me again, and the pressure built up, and yeah his thrusting hurt but even that was starting to become bearable enough to be adding to the situation.  _ The faster this is over, the faster you can leave.  _

“Please,” I finally gasped when the ache of release was too much. The pleasure around my dick strung me out in ways that made me hate myself more than ever before. I just needed it to be done. 

“Please what?” He asked, his own breath shaky as he pounded into me. 

I closed my eyes, tears watering up as I let the words go. “Please, Daddy.” 

For a brief moment I thought he might never let go, but then the pressure stopped.  My whole body shook, my hips jutted forward instinctually. All I could hear was my own gasping breath and the sadistic rumble of his laughter as he milked me all the way through it.  It was wonderful and terrible, humiliating and disgusting.

My head lulled forward as he slipped out of me, letting me slump into the puddle on the floor. I could feel wet stickiness dripping down my thighs, adding to the pool of cum, blood, and vomit below me. While my body still rode out of the spasm of pleasure, a cold, empty feeling crept over me. It choked the tears that should have flowed.  _ It’s over.  _ The thought didn’t relieve me. 

He stepped over me, brushing the strands of hair that had shielded my face. As much as I wanted to cringe away, I didn’t have the energy. The slightest whimper escaped my lips, which he didn’t seem to hear.  I hoped he didn’t hear. 

“This has been a lovely night, but Daddy’s got to go to work now,” he grinned, wiping away from of the drool and blood that pooled at the corner of my mouth. “Don’t worry sweetie, we’ll see each other again soon.” 

His touch faded away, leaving me cold and wet. The concrete ground became dirt. A fire crackled beside me. I laid against a tree, just as before, but now there was not another soul in site. 

_ Trials _ _? _

I swallowed hard, all ready feeling the burn of an oncoming sob session. Cuts and the deep gouge he left on my shoulder seeped through the ripped fabric of my mangled, sweat-soaked shirt. 

_ Beyond repair.  _

There were other clothes I could steal from the supplies the other gathered. I’d find a new change of clothes, then head to the pond and scrub every inch of my skin raw. I struggled to my feet, shaking from the soreness that ached all over. 

_ You’ll get over this, just like everything else, and move on with your life.  _

 

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone, thanks for reading! I was requested to write a Freddy/Quentin fic and this was the result. I tried to keep it from getting too dark, but wow my stomach did churn a bit when I reread this. Also, sorry if the rating on this was off. At first, I thought it could be a mature rating but then the gore scenes made me think it was too graphic for that. 
> 
> If you have any Dead by Daylight fic requests, you ask on my blog here: https://theanxiouspeaches.tumblr.com/ask  
> If you are curious about the backstory behind this fic (Dwight going missing and all that) it's actually a reference to my larger project The Spider's Hook.


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